


Pete Wentz Is the Only Reason I'm Famous

by williamitwasnothing



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Midtown (Band), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - No My Chemical Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Music Journalism, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Sexual Tension, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-25 22:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamitwasnothing/pseuds/williamitwasnothing
Summary: After leaving a bad review on his music blog about Fall Out Boy's From Under The Cork Tree, Mikey Way has found himself writing commentary about Fall Out Boy's writing process as they prepare and make their new album on his blog with his newfound popularity on this one bad review. This will ultimately lead Mikey and Pete in the middle of a whirlwind romance, possibly leaving Mikey to choose between his job as a music journalist or Pete.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

Mikey Way was just a freelance music blogger, dishing out some reviews on newly released albums in the scene about bands of the likes of Gym Class Heroes, The Academy Is…, Cobra Starship and many others that started out or burned out. Mikey wasn’t big on this whole blogging thing. Keeping himself anonymous until very recently after hitting 5000 subscribers on his blog. What started out as a project for his college assignment as a young, fresh-faced English major is now, what helped Mikey wake up in the morning. As much as Mikey would love to be in the scene himself, being able to critique those who are in the scene is the only thing that makes him feel better about the whole situation. 

To him, music is subjective so it’s entirely pointless to leave bad reviews on anything ever. Most of his reviews are positive as he hates conflict but a band that really ticked him off was Fall Out Boy and as soon as they released from Under the Cork Tree, Mikey knew he had to be the first one to jump on it. The band wasn’t bad at all but something about their demeanor and their behavior bugged him. He knew that they would be sellouts one day and the lyric writing wasn’t anything to fawn over either. Most of it is just whiny garbage about how much life sucks and how much you wanna kiss a dude while being a dude. 

Mikey isn’t a popular music blogger in the slightest. Ever since he started it, he has not seen a pretty penny nor has anyone really mentioned him or referred to him as a source for music critique so most of his blogging was for fun and games. And for that, he didn’t think that anybody would see much less care about his one negative review about this band that has only been getting bigger and bigger. But boy was he wrong. After the first few shares, and a couple of hateful comments coming for his looks and appearance wasn’t anything he cared about. Yeah, he wears glasses and is pretty scrawny, but those comments don’t really affect him much as he’s been told way worse by his own peers in middle and high school. 

After the second day of his review being up, he’s gotten about 12 shares, 8 comments (7 of them being hate and one being a bot), and about 84 views on his blog post, he didn’t think it’d get any bigger than that as this was the most attention any of his reviews have gotten. And once again, he was wrong. Not only did this catch the attention of popular alternative music magazines and other popular music reviewers, but Pete Wentz himself got ahold of the review, and most of the time he’d brush off something like this as Mikey was basically a nobody but he wasn’t sure if it were his stalking of Mikey’s music blog or his pettiness but there was no way he was going to let a nobody who knows nothing about music tell him about how he should operate his band and how he should write his songs. 

Those few days Mikey was away from his computer were only adding to Pete’s anger after he sent Mikey an email inviting him to his recording studio to see if Mikey would like to see the Fall Out Boy music writing process in its entirety and maybe give the guys some tips since he knows so much about music. After two days of no response, Pete offered free flight, and payment for everything while he stays and writes an article of the process of their new album and another music review in hopes it would change his mind about Fall Out Boy. 

When Pete was about to give it, a new email popped up into his AOL account. 

“Dear Mr. Wentz, 

I really don’t mean any harm by my review but if the offer still stands, I’d gladly take it. :)” 


	2. Make Us Poster Boys for Your Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to @ribbononmywrist for being my beta reader and helping me edit and read over this chapter! thank u sm, bestie!! :D

The spring air was cool against Mikey’s warm skin, making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. He huddled into his jacket, shoving his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans as far as they could go. It was in times like this that he wished he knew how to drive. 

He sits down, leaning against the Barnes & Noble he just quit his job at. He didn’t think he’d have to explain to his manager of all people who Fall Out Boy is. Not only that, but he spent nearly half his day glued to his computer, exchanging emails between Bob McLynn, Fall Out Boy’s manager, and Pete Wentz, bassist of Fall Out Boy. He questions what choices he made that led up to this moment, but so far, he’s not hating any of it.

With Mikey almost at the halfway mark of turning twenty-six (26), he didn’t think that his life would lead the direction it’s currently in. Hopefully, things will stay afloat, at least for now. 

After about another fifteen minutes of waiting, Gerard finally shows up in his shitty Volkswagen Beetle. Mikey gets inside his car, and they start their nearly twelve-minute drive. 

“So…,” Gerard said, “Fall Out Boy, huh?” 

“Yep.”

“Do you think it’s them or just another scam?”

Mikey scoffed, turning his head to look at Gerard, “I’ve been scammed once,” he lifts his finger to provide more emphasis, “once. Plus, they’ve already confirmed everything for me. I didn’t have to pay a dime.” 

Gerard sucks on his teeth, looking at his rearview mirror before switching lanes, “I don’t know, Mikey. You have to start taking care of yourself. You’re a grown fucking man and still have me as your chauffeur. I’m going to be living in New York full-time now. Ray is busy with his job and Frank’s busy being a dad. You have to stop relying on other people to do your shit. Be independent for once in your life.”

Mikey stays silent. He knows his brother goes on these tangents every once in a while, and while it was nice hearing brotherly advice, Gerard started sounding like a broken record. 

Mikey knows that he’s an adult, the crippling fear of growing up keeps him tied to home. He thought this opportunity could have been his actual shot at being independent and piece away from Jersey.

He sighs, staring out the window as Gerard rambles on, blocking out what he’s saying and replacing his background noise with daydreams of what’s coming next for the rest of the drive.

Gerard and Mikey greet Donna when they arrive home. Gerard then talks about his day, the drive, and Mikey’s usual irresponsibleness. Donna just nods along as she stirs whatever she’s making for dinner that day. Not that any of that was interesting to Mikey. He had other things to worry about.

He heads up to his room and goes straight to his computer, looking through his inbox to make sure that nobody else has left him any more surprise emails before he packs up.

It took him about half an hour before he finally finished packing, he only packed half of what he’s bringing, planning on packing the rest later tonight.

He goes back to his computer, opens a new window, and waits a moment for it to load up before he types, “Fall Out Boy…” He repeats to himself softly before clicking ‘enter’.

He waits a few more moments before he started clicking on links, scrolling, and reading, mostly on what Fall Out Boy has been up to. He knows that they’ve been in the scene for a few years, and they’ve been pretty popular amongst the “emo” scene, whatever the hell that means.

He continues reading before he stumbles upon something interesting on their website. He clicks on the link that reads ‘For the hottest new bands in the scene, check out Decaydance’. He waits for the page to load before a small gasp escapes his lips. He reads over the many other bands that are signed with Decaydance. Some he’s heard before and some that are new but seem familiar. 

He reads over the Cobra Starship section, smiling a bit, seeing that this “new band” is from Jersey. He tempts to click the link but decides against it. Deciding that Fall Out Boy should be a priority.

On second thought. 

Mikey allows himself to click the link. Forcing the thought of Fall Out Boy out, and letting the knowledge of the associating acts of the band fill his mind. Replacing his forever racing thoughts, putting them on a temporary pause. This, of course, is only to get acquainted with the band’s friends and clients. An excellent journalist always does his research, as Mikey would say.

Repeating the same routine of clicking links, scrolling, and reading. Mikey swore it was only about half-past four when he started doing this research, but unless the time on his computer’s wrong, he spent almost an hour on God knows what else.

He groans, mentally slapping himself for getting distracted so easily. He deletes the several tabs on the window before going back to the original three he was working with.

After about an hour and a half of Fall Out Boy fuckery, Mikey grew tired of their faces and music. He isn’t sure how he can handle seeing and meeting them in person now that he knows so much about them. He hopes they don’t think that he’s some crazed fan or whatever.

He slumps against his desk chair before he hears a soft knocking at his door, he closes his eyes then answers, “come in.” Gerard hesitates for a moment before opening the door, expecting to see Mikey, but he meets with the back of Mikey’s desk chair instead.

“Um,” Gerard begins, leaning against Mikey’s door frame, “uh, Mom says that dinners ready and to come and eat with us.” Gerard puckers his lips and continues to make a few weird faces at himself while he waits for Mikey’s answer.

Mikey sighs, turning the chair around to face Gerard, to which Gerard immediately stops making faces. Mikey quirks an eyebrow at Gerard before shaking it off, “I’m not hungry. I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” He gets up from his chair, grabbing some old hoodie off his dresser.

Gerard steps back for a moment, surprised by Mikey’s sudden movement. He stands and watches for a moment before asking, “Do you need a ride or something?”

“No, I can walk myself. I’m a grown man and I need to do adult shit now or whatever. Uh, but I’ll be back, don’t wait up.”

“Don’t wait up? Dude, it’s dinner, it’ll take like ten minutes, tops.” 

Mikey sighs, “I know, I’m sorry. I just need to do something really important right now. It’s for, it’s for Fall Out Boy. So it’s kind of, really important.” 

Mikey and Gerard stare at each other for a moment before Gerard shakes his head, “Fine. Just get back before it gets darker and before Law and Order tonight, there’s a new episode, I think.” Mikey nods, messing with the strings of his hoodie, “Okay. I’ll be gone for like an hour. Later, G.” 

Mikey moves past Gerard, down the hallway, then out of the house. Letting the night take him wherever for the next hour. 

As soon as Mikey is far enough from the house, he pulls out his phone and a piece of paper. Fighting against shaking hands, he quickly types down the string of digits adorned on the crumpled piece of paper. He dials the number and is met with ringing and voicemail.

  
  


It’s been about forty minutes since Mikey left the house. He hasn’t done much to kill the time other than visiting the local 7-Eleven to buy a pack of their cheapest cigarettes and some diet coke. Spending most of his time wandering around then finding himself in a K-Mart parking lot, sitting in front of his phone, checking on it every 3 minutes to make sure he hasn’t missed a notification for anything.

He sighs, getting up from the concrete. He only has twenty minutes to get back home, and he isn’t sure which part of Belleville he is now. If he’s still in Belleville. Walking around aimlessly can do that to a person. 

He groans, a bit angry at himself for needing to leave the house to make a phone call, and losing his way back home. Now, he’s angry at the sun for setting so fast. 

He leaves the parking lot, looking up at the crossroads to see if they look familiar. Just as he was about to walk down Stephen Street, his phone starts ringing. He jumped, struggling to grab his phone out of his pocket. He finally takes a hold of his phone and flips it open, answering, “Hey? Hel-hello?” Mikey holds his breath as he braces for an answer. 

“Mikey? Where are you? I’m gonna come get you, I have to drop something off at Frank’s house.” Gerard’s voice is muffled and cracked, coming through Mikey’s three-year-old flip phone. He lets out a small sigh of disappointment. 

He rubs his eyes and takes a moment to answer, “Um, yeah, okay. I’m-I’m at the K-Mart by uh,” He looks up at the street signs and confirms his location, “By Stephan and Joralemon Street.” They exchange a few words before they both hang up.

Mikey sits back down and sighs in defeat. 

  
  


Mikey’s back where he started. Back in Gerard’s shitty Volkswagen Beetle, with the worn leather seats and weird car floor mats, he never changes. He sighs, watching the sky above them turn orange and pink. He admires the sky while the radio plays in the background. Pretending he’s in his movie with himself as the star and whatever song was playing as the current soundtrack. Man, if this was an actual movie, he’d dip out the theater and complain on his blog about how shitty the movie is.

They sat in comfortable silence before Gerard broke it as soon as they got onto the freeway, “are you wearing your Midtown hoodie? Don’t you think you outgrew that?”

Mikey snapped out of his train of thought. He raises an eyebrow, looking over at his brother, and asks, “What?” 

Gerard takes a moment to look back down at Mikey’s hoodie then puts his eyes back on the road, “uh, yeah. We used to see them a lot when we were in college, don’t you remember?” 

Mikey looks down at the tattered navy-blue hoodie, the word “Midtown” spread across his chest in red and white. He furrowed his brows but smiles at the fond memories of him and Gerard at old shows. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

This was back when he was thrilled. About the show, about life, about school. New experiences that he knew he wouldn’t bear to miss. How he yearns for that feeling again.

“Hello? Earth to the Milkyway.” Gerard teases, once again snapping Mikey out of his thoughts. “Milkyway? God, I hated that nickname,” Mikey says to Gerard, but mostly to himself to confirm once again. Yes, he hated and still hates that nickname. 

Gerard laughs, “Oh, come on, bro. You loved it when dad would buy you a Milkyway bar but write your name over it. You went crazy for the classic, Mikeyway bar.” Mikey covers his face, embarrassed. 

“Jesus, Gerard. Don’t ever bring that up.”

“Dude, you were so convinced that they had a chocolate bar named after you, you told everyone at school to buy one.” Mikey and Gerard both laugh, Mikey’s face turning red from the embarrassment.

As soon as the pair arrive home, Mikey finishes up packing and gets ready for bed. Exhausted, emotionally and physically, at how today treated him. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.

  
  


By the next morning, Gerard was already up and running, preparing to make breakfast for Mikey. Usually, they’d make breakfast together, but Gerard wanted to let Mikey sleep in so he can rest enough for the 6-hour flight ahead of him. It may not seem like a lot, but Mikey has never flown for that long and that far. This was new for both of them.

Gerard was finishing up the eggs when he hears footsteps rushing down the hall. He looked at the clock, confused. It was only 6:09, and Mikey’s flight wasn’t until 11. He shrugs it off and was going back to the eggs before Mikey rushes into the kitchen. 

“Gerard! Why didn’t you wake me up?! My flight leaves in fifty minutes!” Mikey rushes back to his room, leaving Gerard stunned and pretty pissed off.

In times like this, he wants to hate him but he knows he never could. He had been his best friend and his greatest enemy at times, but they were inseparable nonetheless. There was always a Mikey to Gerard as there was a Gerard to Mikey. One’s name was an obligation for the other’s presence on the back of one’s mind. It was always Mikey and Gerard.

Gerard groans and makes a fist, cursing God, Earth, and everything good that’s on it. He storms through the hallway, trying his best not to wake his mom, “What!?” He scream-whispers, “You told me your flight was at eleven!” He enters Mikey’s room, it’s more of a mess than usual. 

“I said seven! Seven.” Mikey exclaims, adding emphasis on the “s”. 

They stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something. 

Gerard loses this staring contest. He sighs and goes to sit on Mikey’s bed, next to him and his suitcases. He takes a deep breath and was about to say something before Mikey cuts him off. 

“I know. I know. It’s the usual routine. I need to be more responsible, need to learn how to drive, and stop asking you guys for favors. I know. You talk about this like every other day.” Mikey looks defeated, once again fumbling with the drawstrings of his too-tight hoodie. Waiting for Gerard to lecture him so they can go to the airport.

Gerard looks at him, his face was sending Mikey mixed signals, not that he was that good at reading emotions either. He waited for his brother to say something but hated the waiting as he could feel the time passing them faster and faster so he was going to apologize and maybe they’ll solve it on the drive over. But it was Gerard’s turn to cut him off.

“I,” Gerard paused for a second to gather his thoughts, “I wasn’t going to say that. I know that I do talk about you being responsible and an adult and all that but you’re going to be twenty-six in a few months and as much as I love you, I can’t drive you forever.”

Gerard looked up at Mikey to make sure he didn’t block him out like usual. Once he knows that he’s still listening, he continues, “But just know I am proud of you. I know that your blog was just like this side-gig or whatever but I’m so proud of you for like, I don’t know, making something out of it. You’re gonna be in all the magazines, Mikey. I can see it now, ‘Article written by Mikey Way.’.” 

Mikey and Gerard both exchange a few breathy laughs before Gerard takes ahold of Mikey in a tight embrace. Mikey felt like his heart would burst, leaning into the hug and wrapping his arms around Gerard, mumbling a soft ‘thanks’. 

They stay like that for a bit before Mikey interrupts the moment, almost hating himself for doing so, “I have to go or else I’m gonna be late.” They both pull away and Gerard gives him a sad look and says, “I know.” They both give each other a soft smile before quickly stuffing Mikey’s things into the back of Gerard’s Beetle and breaking at least ten laws as they make their way to the airport with only fifteen minutes to spare.

  
  


While Mikey was on his way to Los Angeles, the band’s in the recording studio, half of them bickering and the other half exhausted with the first half. Joe and Andy watch as they see the argument in front of them unfold. Patrick having the upper hand because he was almost always in the right.

“Dude, give him a chance at least?” Patrick was staring at the back of Pete’s head as Pete messes with his bass, plucking at the strings as they emitted a low hum. It was practically powerless without an amp to intensify the sound.

Pete had nothing to say until Patrick said, “you’re making this a bigger deal than it is.” Pete sucked in some air, he was chill just a few seconds ago but that just ticked him off, “A bigger deal than it is? You have no idea what I poured into that album for this… brat! To say that I whine too much! Who says that?” 

Pete got up at this point and is looking right back at Patrick who is typically his best friend in the entire world but not, now. 

Patrick shook his head and put his hands up, as if he was being accused of something, “I didn’t say any of that! Plus, you emailed him to come here in the first place. You were the one who wanted to prove him wrong. You… You were the one that kind of started this whole thing, anyway.” 

  
Joe and Andy winced, bracing themselves for the eruption of Mount Peter. 

“Of course I had to prove him wrong! That album is my baby! My world. Fuck the press, fuck his blog and fuck Michael!” Pete rushed out of the control room, trying to calm himself down before he starts crying. 

It’s almost a surprise the way Pete manages to make the name  _ Michael _ sound like the worst thing in the world. The way he spoke of him was like he had caused world hunger, war, and the Minnesota bridge collapse. Pete knew he hated him then, he hated the image of him with a passion so strong.

And the thing about passion is that it never really goes away. And it wouldn’t be going this time, Pete was sure.

Pete held onto this like a promise in hopes it wouldn’t leave him too.

Patrick advised that no one else bother Pete for at least twenty minutes to let him calm down. The band agrees to just stay in the control room to leave Pete to do his thing in the lobby, but after a few minutes, Bob storms into the control room, looking as angry as ever.

“Can someone tell me why the hell is our bassist sobbing in the lobby?” Bob stands still as Joe, Andy and Patrick stare, not sure how to answer without making their manager angrier. 


End file.
